Snake Eyes
by babies-stole-my-dingo
Summary: Spike and Angel have a conversation in a bar, postIllyria, heavy on the snark. Oneshot.


  
_Title:_ **Snake Eyes**  
_Author:_ babies stole my dingo (agilebrit)  
_Fandom:_ Angel  
_Rating:_ PG  
_Length:_ Short short (500-1000 words)  
_Disclaimer:_ Joss is the genius behind these characters; I am but a lowly follower. I make no money from any of this, so please don't sue me.  
_Written for:_ ScarletAngel68, who requested "platonic Spangel interaction, heavy on the snark." I think I'm up for that right now.  
_Notes:_ Takes place in S5 after Illyria takes Fred over. Spike and Angel have a conversation.

* * *

"Spike!" 

Spike twitched, caught trying to sneak past Angel's office. He affected a nonchalant swagger and poked his head in the door. "Anything I can help you with, Angel?"

"You're wet, and it's not raining. Where's my Viper?"

Spike cut his eyes from side to side, looking for an escape. "It's...safe."

"Safe, where, exactly?" Angel wasn't letting him off the hook.

"Um," Spike said, trying to light a soaked cigarette, and failing miserably. "At the bottom of the harbor?"

Angel put his face in his hand. "How did it happen this time?"

"Not sure. I was chasing something, something was chasing me...Hard to say."

"Spike..."

"What?" he said belligerently. "At least I'm out there. Doing _your_ job, I might remind you, helping the helpless. While you're playing CEO, I'm out getting my hands dirty and killing things that you should be taking care of, Mr. Champion of the People."

"And drowning my Viper."

"You can afford another one." Spike considered. "Get it in red next time."

Angel smacked his forehead with his fist a couple of times, then looked at his watch. "Oh thank God. Quitting time." He stood up and headed for his elevator.

Spike intercepted him and punched him lightly on the arm. "Come on, Broodypants. I'll buy you a drink."

"With what?"

"All right, you buy me a drink. Do you good to get out of the building once in awhile for a pleasure jaunt."

Spike was an irresistible force of nature sometimes. Fifteen minutes later, they were ensconced at a table in an anonymous basement dive, with Spike smoking a cigarette from a fresh pack and a pair of beers on the table. "This is actually good," Angel said with surprise, after taking a sip. "I wouldn't have thought a place like this would have beer from home."

"Amazing what you find if you get out and about." Spike regarded him over the rim of his pint. "I'm gettin' worried about you, mate. Don't get me wrong," he said, putting up his hand to forestall whatever it was that Angel was going to say. "Not like I want to pick out curtains or anything, but you're brooding more than usual and it's bad for you."

"Yeah, well, you'd be brooding too if your clients and employees were evil bloodsucking minions of hell and someone kept driving your favorite car into the harbor."

Spike tilted his head and flicked the ash off his smoke. "Walk away, then."

"It's not that easy. There are reasons - well, one reason, really. If I walk away, innocent people will pay for it." He took several swallows of beer and thumped the glass down on the table.

"Why'd you made this deal with Satan's Solicitors, anyway? Never got that. Not like you to crawl into the belly of the beast without a plan."

"Oh, I have a plan." Angel finished his beer and twirled the glass around on the table. "I don't know if it's a good one or not. But I have one."

"Gonna let the rest of us in on it any time soon? Because I have to say, our little group is looking very bloody rocky right now. Ever since Fred - " He stopped and took a deep drink. "Well, you know."

Angel wouldn't look at him, but he signaled the waitress for another round. "Timing has to be just right. I need to lull the Senior Partners into a false sense of security."

"You lull them any more, Angel, and you'll be digested and crapped out before you know it. Those guys play for keeps."

Angel frowned into the fresh glass the waitress brought over. "So do I."

"Wes, especially - " Spike started.

"I _know_, okay?" Angel snapped. "It'll be soon. Damn, but you're annoying."

"Annoying? You really are losing it. Time was you'd insult me much more creatively than that."

"Odious simpleton."

"Poncy git. Much better," Spike said, slouching back in the chair and grinning a little, then sobering. "Soon, Angel?"

"Yeah. Soon."


End file.
